Of Shotguns and Rock Salt
by hollyhobbit101
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles of moments that we don't see in the show. Set in various seasons using various characters. (Requests are welcome!) Chapter 25: There's a girl who comes into Charlie's bar. Always orders the same drink, sits at the same table, and never interacts with anyone else. Of course that's the girl Charlie decides to start crushing on.
1. Not All Angels

**A/N: This story is going to be a collection of random one-shots, probably mostly hurt/comfort. It should be updated weekly and I am open to requests. If you have any, leave them in a review or PM me. Not sure how long it'll take me to get them done but they will get done. This one is for a competition on the QuizUp app and it's kind of a study of Cas and other angels.**

 **Warning: Mild spoilers for season 4 onwards but nothing too major.**

* * *

Once, Castiel was one of the most trusted angels in Heaven.

He was sometimes called Naomi's favourite by the other angels, but it was only in jest. He was loyal, yes, but also well-liked and the soldiers in his garrison were happy to follow him into battle.

He was a good soldier, a servant of Heaven, an angel of the Lord. He remembered Lucifer being cast out and he felt a pang of sympathy for his brother (for Lucifer was still his brother) but he watched in silence as everyone else did, knowing it was the right thing to do. He remembered God leaving and his siblings being thrown into panic. Not Castiel though. He calmed his brothers and sisters and slowly helped them begin to rebuild Heaven.

* * *

Rebelling was one of the hardest things Castiel had ever done. To betray his family, his home, felt worse than he could possibly have imagined and he would never forget the shock and loss he heard over angel radio from time to time. He knew in his heart that he had done the right thing but he still shed a tear over his lost family. Even then, though, he never dreamed of how many of his siblings would suffer for his choice.

* * *

Balthazar called him Cassie. Castiel had mourned when he had thought his brother was dead and had rejoiced when he found him alive once more. He had loved Balthazar, but didn't blink as he thrust the shining blade through the angel's chest.

* * *

Rachel was a good soldier, one of his best. She was a good friend to Castiel back when he led the garrison, and only wanted to help him onto the right path for everyone's sake. He killed her anyway, her wings burning into the cold concrete of the warehouse floor.

* * *

Samandriel was young. His only crime was believing in Castiel and he had paid the most terrible price for it. Crowley had tortured him beyond belief, forcing him to reveal Heaven's secrets without the young angel's knowledge or consent. This painted him a traitor in Naomi's eyes and Castiel once again allowed himself to be led down the path of destruction. Samandriel had tried to warn him and Castiel had killed him with neither mercy nor remorse.

* * *

Hael was innocent. She was just searching for a way to survive on the harsh world Castiel had had a hand in throwing her down upon. She chose the wrong path and, as he took her life away, Castiel was reminded of all the times he had done the same thing. The only difference was, nobody had been able to stop him.

* * *

Once, Castiel had been like them. Once, Castiel had been an angel.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. I'm not sure about how it turned out but who knows? Maybe it worked. Leave your thoughts, general comments and criticisms in a review and also any requests. Bye!**


	2. All In My Head

**A/N: Two updates in a week, what? I will have a set day for updates (probably) but I had this already written and it has been for a while so I thought I may as well post it.**

 **Spoilers: 7x17 'The Born-Again Identity'**

 **Warning: Some gory images at the start**

* * *

Sam curled into a tight ball on the uncomfortable motel room bed. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands over his ears but it did nothing to quiet the Devil screaming in his head. The harsh smell of smoke invaded his nostrils as something warm and sticky dripped onto his forehead, and he snapped his eyes open to see the room was on fire. Dean lay above him on the ceiling, his eyes open and glassy, his flesh bubbling as the flames erupted around him. Sam watched in horror as they consumed his brother, just like they'd consumed their mother, just like they'd consumed Jess. A scream built in his throat as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. He clamped his mouth shut to prevent it from escaping, but a sob worked its way loose anyway. He tried closing his eyes again, but the flames still flickered menacingly behind his eyelids.

The bottom of his bed sank down slightly and a cold hand settled on Sam's shoulder.

"Hey bunk buddy." Lucifer's soft voice tickled Sam's cheek. "Looks like you're really cracking up, huh? You were right, you know, trying to stop Dean jamming that damaged little soul of yours back in. Too bad you failed. Although... I guess that kind of your thing isn't it?"

In desperation, Sam grabbed his left hand in his right and pressed down hard on his scar, knowing full well it wouldn't work. The sharp pain elicited a wince, but the pressure on his shoulder didn't lessen. Lucifer tutted behind him.

"Come on, Sam. You know that silly little trick of yours isn't going to work. You _wanted_ me Sam. You let me get a foothold in that crazy head of yours." The bed creaked as Lucifer leant down and jammed a finger against Sam's temple. He wiggled it around and dug a nail into soft skin, giggling softly. "And I don't intend to let go."

Sam pushed Lucifer away and lurched drunkenly forwards out of bed. His breaths were coming short and fast - too fast - and the cramped room was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Even as he watched, it melted into blood and dripping flesh. Staggering, he made his way to the door, careful to avoid the phantom chains and meat-hooks hanging from the ceiling.

"Where are you going?" Lucifer yelled from the bed. "I thought we were having fun!" Sam ignored him and fumbled to put the key in the lock. He finally managed to twist it and wrenched the door open, letting a blast of the cool night air wash over him. He stumbled away from the motel in no particular direction.

"I'll catch ya up!" Lucifer's fading voice called after him.

* * *

Dean knew something was wrong before he even opened his eyes. For one thing, it was unnaturally cold in the room, and it was far too quiet. He listened intently for a moment before realising that there was no sound coming from the opposite bed; no breathing, no squeaks, nada. His eyes flew open and he searched the room in panic. Sam's notes on Dick Roman were scattered all over the place and his bed clothes were extremely rumpled, but there was no sign on him. Cursing under his breath, he pulled on his boots and jacket and headed out into the car park.

The chill night air bit into his skin but he barely noticed it. He searched everywhere around the motel, checking between cars and in dark corners. When Sam still hadn't appeared, his brain went into overdrive thinking of all the possibilities of where he could have gone. With the state Sam's head was in, the kid could have gone anywhere. Dean cursed himself quietly for not keeping a better eye on his brother; he should have seen this coming a mile off. He ran to her Impala and gunned the engine, praying to anyone listening that he found Sam before it was too late.

He'd been searching for over an hour when he got the call. By this time, fear that something had happened was really set in. His phones sharp ringtone broke the heavy silence and Dean fumbled to answer it. Sam's name blinked on the screen.

"Sammy?" He almost whispered his brother's name.

An unfamiliar woman's voice answered. "Are you Dean?" She asked.

"Where's my brother?"

"You were listed as the emergency contact in Sam's phone. I'm afraid there's been an accident-"

Dean's blood ran cold and the roaring in his ears blocked out everything the woman was saying. "What? What happened?" He demanded, cutting her off.

"He was hit by a car traveling at high speeds. According to the driver he just appeared out of nowhere."

Dean groaned and leant his head in a palm. _Sammy_.

"Is he okay?"

"We're not at liberty to discuss this over the phone. If you could meet us at the hospital we would be able to inform you further."

Dean didn't bother thanking the woman as he clicked off the call and spun the car around. As he sped in the direction of the hospital he made a silent vow that he would find a way to fix his broken brother, no matter what it took.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed that! Not sure how it turned out but whatever. I'll update soon. Bye!**


	3. Crash and Burn

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's read this and favourited and followed! You guys mean the world to me! I hope you continue to read and enjoy these little one-shots of mine.**

 **Spoilers: Potential spoilers for 1x01, Pilot, but none after.**

* * *

 _What would I do without you?_

 _Crash and burn._

* * *

'Crash and burn.'

It was their thing. Their line. The one they used when they needed to cheer the other up, or when they were laying in each other's arms at night, reflecting on what they had done to deserve the person next to them.

Sam would come home from a difficult day in college and Jess would kiss him and shove a plate of her homemade cookies under his nose. He'd laugh and take her in his arms and suddenly all his worries would disappear. He'd whisper into her ear:

"What would I do without you?"

Her soft laugh would tickle his neck and she'd whisper back. "Crash and burn."

* * *

On their first date she had asked him about his family. He had mumbled something incoherent and stared at his feet, wondering how he'd managed to screw everything up so badly so quickly. But then she'd taken his face in her hands and told him that it didn't matter and that she knew all about having a difficult family. He remembered looking into her eyes and watching the way the sun turned her hair to gold and thinking that this was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He'd smiled and nervously asked her if she wanted to do this again sometime. Her eyes had lit up and she accepted with a laugh.

"What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn."

* * *

On Sam's 21st birthday he'd stared at his phone for hours, hoping that it would light up with a call - hell, a text would do - from Dean just to tell him that they were alive and safe. None came and Sam had tried not to be too disappointed. After all, he'd had nothing but radio silence since he left anyway. He'd put on the mask of indifference that he'd perfected over years of hunting and pretended to be happy when his friends tried to get him drunk to celebrate the fact that he could legally drink now.

Jess, however, had seen through that mask. When the two of them were finally alone, she had pulled him into a gentle hug and curled her fingers into his unruly hair. No words needed to be said; just that one gesture told Sam that she understood and that she was here for him.

"What would I do without you?" He'd mumbled into her soft hair.

"Crash and burn."

* * *

When he'd decided he wanted to propose, he'd practised for hours whenever he was alone. He would come up with a thousand different ways to tell her how much he loved her and a thousand more to ask her that one simple question but it was by far the hardest thing he'd ever done, hunting included. Everything he thought of seemed fine in his head but when he spoke it out loud it never seemed quite right. He made himself so anxious about it that Jess eventually noticed his odd mood and asked him what was wrong. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes and suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

"Jessica Moore, what would I do without you?"

Her laugh filled the room. "Crash and burn."

* * *

They were the last words he ever heard her say. He'd called on the way back from Jericho with Dean to tell her everything was fine and he'd be back home soon. To hear her voice after an entire weekend of missed phone calls and voice messages had immediately lifted Sam's spirits and returned him in some way to the normalcy of college that he'd become accustomed to. He'd listened to her talk about her weekend with a smile on his face and, for once, he didn't care what Dean thought about him. He'd ended the call with a promise to talk again soon and the same question he always asked.

"What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn."

* * *

On the day of her funeral he'd stood at the grave far longer than anyone else. Her parents had come over and shook his hand, making it clear that, whilst they did not blame him for their daughter's death, they didn't want to see him again either. And why should they? He knew he was to blame, even if they didn't, and that wasn't exactly something that could be forgiven.

He crouched down next to the polished stone and laid a hand on the freshly turned earth at his feet. It seemed impossible that she could be just ashes and dust, when just a few weeks ago she had been laughing in his arms on that Halloween night. He let a few tears slip down his cheeks as he lay the bunch of lilies on the ground, smiling as he remembered how much she'd hated roses. He reached into his pocket and brought out the engagement ring that he'd bought for her in secret, the one that she'd never get to see. He turned the ring over in his fingers and choked around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"What am I going to do without you?"

This time there was no whisper, no laugh. No voice comforted him and no arms wrapped around his shoulders. Sam bent his head and cried.

 _Crash and burn._

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys liked that. I'm crying now; I didn't mean to make it that sad. Oh well. Please leave a review if you have a request you'd like me to fulfil, or if you just want to anyway, and I'll update again next week. Bye!**


	4. Demon's Blood

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update last week. I was away and I didn't have much wifi. Thanks to everyone who's read this so far! This chapter is the request for NineCrow. I hope you like it!**

 **Spoilers: Minor spoilers for 4x21 'When the Levee Breaks' and 5x14 'My Bloody Valentine'**

* * *

The scene was all too familiar. Sam, locked down on the bed in Bobby's panic room whilst pain wracked his body and screams ripped their way out of his throat. The difference was, this time he went willingly. No tricks were needed, no fake phone calls or secrets. Sam wasn't sure which was worse.

He pleaded with Dean and Cas to help him, but none was forthcoming. None was going to come and he knew that, but it didn't stop him from asking anyway because all he needed was for his brother to reassure him that everything was going to be okay.

Of course, that was a complete lie. Sam knew he'd done what he had sworn never to do again and he was paying a just price for it. He'd violated ever moral code he possessed and all but shattered the tenuous relationship he and Dean had managed to rebuild since Lucifer was freed. For what seemed like the hundredth time, they were back to square one. It would be a miracle if Dean managed to trust him ever again for, if he fell of the wagon this easily, what's to stop him doing so again?

* * *

He screamed as another bolt of pain ripped through him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and a tear slipped down his cheek. His arms and legs jerked and spasmed uncontrollably and the bonds around his joints dug sharply into his skin as he strained against them. He curled his hands into tight fists to try and stop the tremors but it was useless, only resulting in his fingernails leaving crescents in his palm where they had dug into the soft flesh.

* * *

"Hey Sam."

Sam's eyes flew open and he whipped his head to the side as a silky voice sounded to his left. Lucifer lounged against the wall of the panic room, his arms folded, smirking at Sam.

"No. You can't be here, this isn't real," Sam ground out.

"True," Lucifer admitted. "Thanks to that warding my little brother branded onto your ribs, I can't find you. This is just some fever dream your brain is spitting out because of that demon blood you drank."

"Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lucifer asked, puzzled. "I want to understand you, Sam. I want to know what goes on inside that broken head of yours. I want to _help_ you."

"You're lying."

"I promised you no lies, didn't I? Ask yourself this, Sam, who is really the villain here? Look at what my brothers are doing to Dean. They're trying to trick him into being Michael's vessel. They're trying to break him, to force his hand into saying yes. Now look at me. I've never tricked you, never lied to you, and I never will. I'm giving you free choice here. You will say yes, in time, but I want you to do it freely."

"No. You're wrong. I will never say yes to you," Sam spat out.

"We'll see. Remember, Sam. Detroit." Lucifer laughed once, then disappeared. Sam looked around wildly.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU!" He screamed into the empty room. He let out a cry as a sharp pain built behind his eyes and let his head fall back onto the pillow, his eyes slipping closed.

* * *

When Sam woke, most of the pain was gone. There was a gnawing ache in his belly from hunger - for food, thankfully - and his skin was pale and clammy, but he knew the worst was over. It had been quicker than last time, but last time had been from months of consumption. This time was just a fraction of that amount. He swallowed hard and winced at the way it scratched his dry throat.

"Dean?" he called, his voice hoarse. "Dean, it's over. Let me out, please."

It took a few minutes, but at last Dean entered the room. Wordlessly, he unlocked Sam's shackles and helped his brother into a sitting position. His legs were shaky so he sat for a moment before staggering to his feet. After making sure Sam was okay and wasn't going to fall over any second, Dean turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"Dean..." Sam's voice trailed off and he watched his brother walk away, his heart growing heavy with the weight of what he had done. He sat back down on the hard bed and buried his face in his hands, a small sob escaping him.

* * *

 **A/N: So how was that? I think it went a bit off at the end. :/ Endings are hard. What do people think of season 12 so far? Drop me a PM if you want to chat, or if you have a request you want me to write, or include that in a review. I'll update next Tuesday. Bye!**


	5. A Night at the Movies

**Hi guys! Happy new year! This is a little something I wrote for a challenge on Tumblr so I thought I'd post it here too. I want to thank Tuesday Too for all the wonderful reviews and support they've given me these past few months. This is a Destiel high school AU. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Prompt:** 'We just snuck into the movies together because our friends dared us to get in, watch a movie and get back out without getting caught, hell yeah, this isn't a date by the way what are you saying, fuck, this movie's sad, fuck, I'm not crying, fuck, you're holding me in your arm and it feels right, fUCK'

 **Warning: Mild swearing**

* * *

"So, Dean," Charlie began, perching on Dean's desk. "What are your plans for tonight?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Jo and I were talking-" Dean groaned. Jo and Charlie had been going out for a couple of months now and the two were well-known for charming their way into and out of trouble, often dragging their friends down with them. "What? We were talking and we decided that you simply do not get out enough. And there's that new movie on down at the cinema. Catch my drift?"

"I'm busy. Plus, I don't have enough money."

"So? Who said anything about paying?"

"You want me to sneak in?"

"Bingo. Not just you though. You have to take someone else with you. How about Castiel?"

"Cas? He wouldn't steal cash from his own brothers, let alone sneak into a movie theatre with me."

"All the more reason. Besides," Charlie lowered her voice in a horrible impression of Dean's. "He's cute."

Dean rolled his eyes. He had mentioned to her, _once_ , that Cas was cute and she had run with it, bringing it up to embarrass him at every opportunity. It wasn't as if Dean had meant anything by it anyway; it was obvious the dude had been blessed with superhuman looks. Those cerulean blue eyes and perfect pink mouth would have anyone looking, right?

"Shut up, Charlie," Dean protested weakly. "I told you: no. Anyway, that new movie's a chick flick. You know I hate chick flicks."

"Not true." Charlie sighed. "Look, all you have to do is get the two of you in and out without getting caught. But if you're too chicken…" She slid off his desk and started walking slowly away. Dean stared after her for an agonising moment before groaning and calling after her.

"Charlie! I'll do it." She spun around and shoved a slip of paper in his face.

"That's got all the info you need to know on it; showing time; screen number; everything."

"Thanks. Have you asked Cas yet?" Dean asked, surprised when a shocked look came over Charlie's face.

"Oh, no. That's your job," she told him, shoving a finger in his chest. She turned and waved over her shoulder. "Peace out, bitches."

Dean read the paper in his hand, committing the information to memory. He set off down the corridor, wondering how the hell he was going to persuade Cas to come with him.

* * *

Dean ducked into the classroom Cas was sat in, quietly knocking on the door. Cas looked up from his papers and grinned broadly at Dean. "Dean!" he greeted. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Cas. Look, um, I was wondering if you wanted to come see the new movie with me later? As friends, I mean, obviously. I mean, unless-"

"Dean," Cas interrupted, an amused smile on his face. "I'd love to. How much will it cost?"

 _Here we go_ , Dean thought. "Thing is, Cas… We're not exactly paying."

A startled look crossed Cas's face and he frowned in confusion. "You mean… We're sneaking in."

"Yes. It was Charlie's idea; she dared me to. I don't normally do that. If you don't want to I can find someone else." Dean started backing away, grasping for the door handle.

"Dean," Cas said quietly. "I'll do it. I don't like it but I'll do it."

"You will?" Dean said in relief. "I'll pick you up later. See you then."

"See you."

* * *

"Okay, here's the plan. I've been watching that guard for fifteen minutes and he's almost finished his coffee. In exactly two minutes he's going to turn around to fill it up. We'll then have a thirty second window to get through the doors and into the screen before he catches us. You ready?"

Cas bounced on the balls of his feet, nervousness written all over his face. "I'm still not sure we should be doing this, Dean."

"Of course we shouldn't. That's what makes it fun." Dean watched the guard for a moment longer and, sure enough, he turned his back to them, coffee cup in hand. "Go, go, go!"

He and Cas speed walked through the doors and ducked into the screen, praising God that their screen was the first one. They slipped into two seats near the back, breathing heavily.

"See? Was that fun or what?" Dean asked, grinning at his friend.

"We haven't gotten away with it yet." Cas tightly replied. Dean rolled his eyes and settled back to watch the film.

* * *

The movie was actually kind of good, although he was never going to tell Charlie that. About half way through, Dean heard sniffing sounds coming from Cas's general direction and looked across in concern, startled to see tears running in rivers down his friend's face. Sure, the movie was sad, but it wasn't _that_ sad, was it? Unsure of what to do, Dean awkwardly patted Cas's arm and then quickly turned back to face forward. He felt an embarrassed flush creep up his cheeks and was extremely glad no one could see.

A few minutes later and Dean began to feel tears pricking the backs of his eyelids too. He tried to force them back but _fuck_ this movie was sad and soon he was breaking down into uncontrollable sobs. Charlie was definitely not hearing about this.

He felt a slight pressure on his shoulders and then something was pulling him to the left. Cas's arm was wrapped tightly around him and Dean thought that maybe he should be resisting, but it felt so good so he let himself relax into the touch. They were supposed to be here as friends dammit; this wasn't a date, but, fuck, Cas was warm and soft and it felt so right for him to be holding Dean like that.

* * *

When the movie ended and the lights came up they were still clinging to each other like two drowning men. Other people in the audience were leaving and some gave them strange looks as they passed so Dean carefully extricated himself from Cas's grasp, never taking his eyes off the other man. His face was red and his eyes swollen (and Dean suspected his was too) but, in that moment, Dean thought he was the most beautiful man in the world. He grabbed Cas's hand and they walked out together, past the point of caring whether they got caught or not.

The next morning when Charlie asked how it had gone, Dean just smiled and walked away, leaving her to come to her own conclusion.

He didn't see her excited grin or the way she rushed to text Jo to tell her their plan had succeeded.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you like that! Please review if you have a moment and I hope you have a wonderful 2017. Bye!**


	6. The Definition of Joy

**A/N: This was another fic written for the supernaturalpromptchallenge on tumblr. I have fallen in love with the Charlie/Jo ship and my prompt for this month was 'Joy' so this is what I produced. Hope you enjoy and thanks to cmr2014, TuesdayToo, Snovolovac and Dragonsrule18 for the lovely reviews!**

 **This is set in Season 2, after 2x06 'No Exit' when Jo is hunting on her own.**

 **Warning: Implied sex, although nothing explicit.**

* * *

A lot of things in life made Charlie happy; computers, gaming, _The Hobbit_ (although that one was tinged with bittersweet memories of her mom). But happy is a loose term, especially for an orphaned teenaged hacker on the run, and she hadn't found anything yet that made her feel pure joy.

Sometime during October 2006 she found herself in the only bar in some no-name backwater town where no one knew her and everyone avoided her. It was perfect, really it was. She could start a new life with no strings attached. Maybe even settle down, find a nice girl, get a life outside of fiction. It was probably a hopeless dream but it was nice to have something to hold on to.

A young blonde girl about Charlie's age plonked herself down on the stool next to her. The girl had mud streaked on her clothes and she had a bloody cut down her cheek but she didn't seem to care as she coolly ordered a drink and shot Charlie an appraising glance.

"Are you just gonna stare all day or can I get you a drink?" she drawled. Charlie flushed, realising she had been staring at the other girl since she had walked in.

"Just a soda please," she mumbled, fixing her eyes firmly on the floor. The blonde ordered then swivelled in her seat to face Charlie, sticking out her hand.

"Jo Harvelle."

Charlie hesitated before reaching out and grasping Jo's hand. "Charlie Bradbury."

"Nice to meet you Charlie. So," Jo's voice dropped, sending shivers down Charlie's spine. "You come here often?"

Charlie laughed. "No. I'm just… looking I guess."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

The conversation petered out and the two sat in an awkward silence, sipping their drinks. Charlie cursed herself; usually she was much smoother around girls and now she had finally found one interested in her and all she could do was stare. Perfect.

"So… What brings you here?" She winced. _Really Charlie?_

Jo shrugged. "Just a job."

Charlie's eyes shot up as she took in Jo's bedraggled appearance. "Must be one hell of a job," she remarked, gesturing to the cut on the other girl's cheek.

Jo laughed and her brown eyes lit up with amusement. "That's one word for it," she commented dryly.

"I know First Aid. I could help you with that if you wanted?" Charlie offered hesitantly.

Jo smiled suggestively and cocked an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to go home with a girl I barely know in a shady town I've never been to before?"

"Yes!" Charlie blurted out. "I mean no! I mean-"

Jo reached out and laid a finger on Charlie's lips. Her breath tickled Charlie's cheek as she leant forward and her blonde hair caught the sunlight, turning it to gold threads. Her pink lips curved beautifully in a smirk. "It's okay," she whispered. "Let's go."

* * *

Jo whistled appreciatively as they walked into Charlie's rented apartment. "Nice place. You know, I was planning to crash at the motel down the road, but this is much more preferable."

Charlie blushed and shuffled awkwardly. "It's nothing special," she murmured.

"Well, I like it." Jo strode over to the bed and dropped onto it, watching Charlie amusedly. "Are we gonna get this show on the road?" she said, pointing to her cheek.

"Right! Yes! I'll just, um, I'll go grab the kit." Charlie stumbled in her haste and banged into the table, knocking over the lamp. She winced and flushed deeply. "Be right back!" she called, practically running into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and leant on the sink, staring at her face in the mirror.

"Alright Charlie, you can do this. You've done this a millions times before. Don't blow it."

Straightening up, she slipped the First Aid kit off the shelf and smiled confidently. Jo was turning a tattered old book over in her hands when Charlie exited the bathroom. She cleared her throat nervously and waved the kit in the air.

"Found it! It's only the basics, but it should be enough."

"Great. Tolkien fan, huh?" Jo asked, holding _The Hobbit_ up.

Charlie walked over and sat down next to her on the bed. "Yeah. My mom used to read it to me as a kid before she-" She stopped suddenly, realising Jo probably wouldn't want to hear about her 'tragic past'. She coughed and grabbed some antiseptic, dabbing at the gash. "Anyway, let's get you cleaned up. I think I have some clothes you could borrow if you wanted. Hope you don't mind slogan shirts, that's pretty much all I have-"

"My dad used to read it too," Jo whispered.

Charlie stopped what she was doing and looked up in shock. Jo's eyes glimmered with unshed tears and her gaze was faraway. Charlie hesitated, then reached out and took Jo's small hand.

"What happened to him?" she asked. Jo remained silent and Charlie realised that the other girl might not want to talk about it. "I'm sorry. It's okay if you don't want to tell me." Another beat passed then Jo's hand tightened in Charlie's and she began to speak.

"I was just a kid. My dad, he was out on a job with his partner and the other guy messed up. I don't know exactly what happened but my dad ended up dead. My mom was really cut up about it but she still managed to raise me and run her bar. We never saw the other guy again." Jo's voice broke and her shoulders began she shake as she cried.

"Oh, Jo. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she sniffed. "It was years ago."

"That's not what I mean. See, when I was twelve I got scared at a sleepover and called my parents to pick me up. They were hit by a drunk driver and my dad died. My mom's still in hospital. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I understand what you're going through and if you want to talk, I'm here."

Charlie felt Jo shift next to her and then a thumb was brushing away tears she hadn't realised she'd shed. Their faces were inches from each other, so close that they were sharing the air. Charlie unconsciously leant forward and then her lips were on Jo's, blood and tears mingling together but she didn't care and-

Jo pulled away with a gasp, shock written on her face. Charlie stood up and hastily backed away. "I- I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I'll just, um… I- I'll"

Charlie hadn't seen her move, but suddenly Jo's hands were on her face, drawing her in and pulling her back to the bed. The two fell onto the soft mattress in a tangle of limbs, lips crashing together hot and fast, hands exploring every inch of the other. Their breaths came in harsh pants and – _yes_ – Charlie knew what true happiness felt like.

* * *

The morning sun streaming in through the window woke Charlie the next morning. Her hair was intertwined with Jo's in a burst of red and gold and they lay safe in each other's arms. Charlie leant over and kissed Jo softly, grinning as the other girl's eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," she whispered. Jo smiled and reached to pull Charlie in again.

"I think I've found what I'm looking for," Charlie murmured against Jo's mouth .

"Yeah? What's that?"

Charlie wrapped her arms around Jo and let out a sigh of contentment. "You."

* * *

 **A/N: Cheesy? Yup! It's my first try at writing something like this so if you have a moment please review! Bye!**


	7. Final Moments

**A/N: What's this? A poem? Yes, after well over a year I am delving back into poetry again because I made the mistake of signing up for the Supernatural Poetry Challenge on Tumblr. Won't be doing that again, at least for a long time, because I forgot why I haven't updated my Doctor Who poetry fic in forever. My reason being that I am bad at poetry. Oh well, let's try it. The theme for this month was characters from the show and my prompt was Ellen Harvelle.**

 **Thanks to TuesdayToo, cmr2014 and Dragonsrule18 for the reviews!**

* * *

Your daughter  
Lies beside you.  
Hair the colour of gold  
And hands the colour of blood.

You wonder about Bill,  
If he died the same.  
With someone next to him  
Or if he was alone.

She shouldn't be lying here,  
Jo was supposed to live.  
You tried so hard to stop her  
But she is too much like her father.

Your daughter  
Lies beside you.  
Hair the colour of gold  
And hands the colour of blood.

You hold her close  
As she fades away.  
A growl, a breath  
And you too are gone.

* * *

 **A/N: To be honest, I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out because, as I said, it's been ages since I last wrote any poetry and this was better than expected. I'm going to keep tabs on the challenge and maybe enter again in the future if I decide that maybe I can do this poetry lark. Or not. Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	8. The Outsiders

**A/N: Hi again guys! I know, I haven't updated or posted anything in a while because I've been so busy with everything. I'm on a break from school so I might have a little more time for writing now though. Fingers crossed. This is just a little piece I wrote for an English assessment because if they don't know it's fanfiction they can't penalise you, right? Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

They don't talk to anyone besides each other. She sees them occasionally around town, but never for long and they stick close to each other, never given a second glance by any passers-by. It would be impossible not to see them really, given their height and the way they cut suspicious looks at anyone who dares go near but it's always carefully concealed under a mask of complete normality.

* * *

The town she lives in isn't a particularly close-knit community; everyone's always too busy to care about much outside of their own lives. Still, it's one of those places where everything is guaranteed to stay the same, so the minute something falls out of place everyone knows about it. It's like that now, she thinks, remembering the stories she's been told about the two men who mysteriously showed up a week ago. Some say they're criminals on the run which is why they stick to themselves, lest they get recognised. The local bartender calls them cult members, telling her about some of the 'weird Satanic crap' he's heard from their corner. Another guy swears blind they're mass murderers, claiming to have caught a glimpse of all sorts of guns and blades stashed away in their car. The fact of the matter is, though, that no one really knows who they are, and no one cares to do more than speculate as long as they keep their distance.

* * *

She's woken early in the morning of their second week in town by a loud bang coming from the woods behind her house. She goes to the window to see two torch beams dancing in the distance, lighting up two tiny figures making their way along the grassy path. The church lies that way, and she wonders wryly if the Satanist rumours are true. More likely they're visiting a dead relative or friend, albeit at an odd time.

Later that afternoon she spots them packing heavy-looking travel bags into their car - apparently they're leaving. The taller one appears to be limping slightly and a grimace briefly flashes across his face as something knocks against his right knee. She almost goes over to see if she can help but the protective look on his friend's face stops her short, so she instead watches them discreetly from a nearby bus shelter.

* * *

Within ten minutes they're climbing into their car and driving away, laughing at some joke the rest world isn't allowed to share in. They're never seen again, the two strange men, and the stories and speculation soon die down. No one cares spread stories about the two outsiders who blew into town for a little over a week, not when they have their own lives to focus on.

* * *

 **A/N: This scored me 37/40 so I figured it was good enough to post here. If anyone's interested the prompt was 'The Outsider' so I chose an observer POV watching two outsiders (Sam and Dean) around town. Please leave a review if you have a moment! Bye!**


	9. The Day the Storm Came

**A/N: Here's another thing written for a school assessment with the prompt The Day the Storm Came. I haven't had the results back yet so I don't know how well I've done but I'm pretty nervous. I also used this for the prompt Alternate Universe for ohsam's Celebrating Sam challenge over on LJ. I might be posting a few fics for this challenge so keep an eye out.**

 **Thanks to deadone1013, Guest, MissScorp, cmr2014, waitingforAslan, Dragonsrule18, bagelcat1 and TuesdayToo for the recent reviews! I've been really slow at replying recently so apologies for that.**

* * *

It was always storming in Hell.

The prison island had other names, but its inmates knew it as Hell, and with good reason; they say there's no worse place to end up. Sam's brother would warn him: "Don't you go there, Sammy. Promise me you'll be good."

Sam promised. He tried so hard to honour that promise, did everything he could to be as good as his brother wanted him to be. He managed until his 24th year before he messed up and everything fell apart.

* * *

A lot of people got hurt, or worse, and they sentenced him to 18 months in the worst block of Hell. Sam's brother tried his best to save him but he couldn't do anything to help and so he was shipped off to the stormy Hell that would be his home for the next year and a half. In truth, Sam was glad his brother had been unsuccessful; he knew that he deserved everything he was getting.

Those 18 months felt more like a thousand years to Sam. The only sounds he heard were the screams of the other prisoners and the constant, monotonous hammering of rain on the stones all around him. He was tortured and beat every way imaginable and always the soundtrack of the storm played in the background, occasionally broken up by the rumble of thunder and the crash of lightning. Sometimes almost like it was competing with Sam for how loud they could be.

* * *

As bad as those months were, though, the years after were worse. He moved in with his brother after getting out because the need for companionship after over a year of solitude was overwhelming. Sudden, loud noises startled him and he would flinch if someone got too close. He refused to leave the house for a while for fear that something would happen and he'd be dragged away again. It seemed about right that they day he finally got up the courage to go outside was the day the storm came.

* * *

It just came out of nowhere. A few drops of rain splashed onto his head and he looked up just in time to see black clouds rushing to block out what had been a beautiful day. The drops started coming down heavier and a harsh breeze began blowing, causing a chill to immediately sink deep into Sam's bones. Long repressed memories bubbled to the surface and Sam felt his chest seize up, his breath coming shorter and faster. People on the street started running and yelling in surprise, adding to the nightmare effect.

He ran as fast as he could, the roll of thunder and pounding rain chasing him down the street. He clapped his hands over his ears, earning some strange looks from passers-by, but Sam didn't care. It seemed to take twice as long to get home, and Sam fairly sprinted through the door when he made it, slamming it behind him. A hand landed heavily on his shoulder and Sam jerked away, almost jumping out of his skin as his brother asked if he was okay. He didn't bother replying, instead racing upstairs and shutting himself in his room.

* * *

He sank down beside his bed, and squeezed his eyes shut, but the darkness only added to the building panic so he stared at the wall instead as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Nothing helped though and soon it felt like the walls were beginning to close in on him, trapping him with the sounds of the storm and taking him straight back to Hell.

He didn't know when he began screaming. It was fitting though: the final instrument in the cacophony of noise assaulting him with memories. The storm continued well into the night and the next day, and as Sam sobbed he began to wonder if he'd ever be okay again.

* * *

 **A/N: Ugh that ending is so shit. Oh well. Please review if you have a moment, and I might update again in the next couple of days! Bye!**


	10. Doorways

**A/N: Hey guys. I know I haven't updated in a while but that's because I'm in the middle of exams. Fortunately I'm on a week-long half term break now so I still need to revise but I will have more free time in the evenings. After that it's only two more weeks of intensive exams and then I'm completely free. So this one's likely to be short, but from June 16th onwards I will have much, much more time. This was written for the Supernatural Creations Challenge on Tumblr. I chose the character Charlie Bradbury and my prompt was 9x04, Slumber Party.**

 **Thanks to Guest (x2), Tuesday Too, deadone1013 and Dragonsrule18 for the recent reviews and to everyone who reads this!**

* * *

It wasn't that hunting's boring. Far from it, in fact. Hunting's just… very samey. Research, identify the monster, track the monster, kill it, clean up, repeat. It gets tedious after a while, and it didn't help that Charlie kept to the smaller hauntings and the occasional vampire whilst she got used to the job. She wasn't quite suicidal enough to try for anything bigger solo.

* * *

Charlie grew up on myths. From an early age she was reading about the adventures of hobbits and dwarves and dragons and those stories were the things she held onto in the months and years after her parents' accident and subsequent deaths. So finding out they were all, in fact, real had excited Charlie more than she could explain. Sure, she was scared that shape-shifting Levia-thingys led by her own boss were trying to kill the whole world but she had to admit that the world of the supernatural thrilled her. She tried to ignore it and go back to her life, but it kept finding her so she gave up and started trying to learn as much as she could, eventually embarking on her own hunting career. Which is how she ended up here, not bored, but tired of all the sameness, and wishing for her own quest like the ones she had read about as a child.

* * *

Meeting Dorothy in real life had been an interesting experience to say the least. The hardened, badass, fairly attractive hunter she had met hadn't exactly been the soft, wistful child she had read about in the books. It was gratifying, however, to have one of her childhood heroes call her a genius and pretty much follow her lead in defeating _the_ Wicked Witch of the West. It certainly made a change from the usual salt and burn gig.

* * *

Charlie had waited her whole life for adventure of some sort. She had been on the run since she was 12, and, when she finally realised that quests and adventures just didn't exist, she had always wished for something more than the 9-5 desk job she had scored with Roman Enterprises. She had got what she wanted with hunting, but it was still lacking some magic, some excitement that she had initially thought it would bring to her life. Now she was being asked to go to Oz and it was all she had ever wanted and… she didn't know.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go. She did, honestly, but she wasn't sure if she could just drop everything and leave. She didn't have much of a life outside of LARPing and hunting, but she had kind of-sort of-not really settled down. But she had friends here. Sam and Dean were good men, and what if they needed her and she was away in Oz and couldn't help them? Still… They were capable hunters and she wouldn't get a chance like this again. She had a feeling that if she turned this opportunity down she would regret it for the rest of her life, however long that may be.

One look at that yellow brick road and the Emerald City assured her she had made the right decision. A smile spread wide across her face as the promise and danger and excitement and adventure lay ahead of her. She heard the door slam shut behind her and Charlie sighed in exhilaration as she set off on her very first quest.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Just thought I'd let you know that I handed in the piece I wrote last chapter and it got 36 marks out of 40! Add that to the 38 I got on the first section of the paper and I ended up with 74/80 as my final mark which I'm pretty happy with! Too bad it wasn't my real exam, but it's encouraging. Thanks again for reading and please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	11. Lesson No 1

**A/N: Guess who's back from the dead! I am sorry it's been so long since an update on anything. Exams. I have several projects in the works which I am hoping to get up over the coming days and weeks. For now, enjoy this short ficlet. It was written for the Rare Ship Creation Challenge on Tumblr and my prompt was sunny day. You wouldn't think I'd be able to squeeze angst out of it but, if you know me at all, you'll know that I can and I will.**

 **Thanks to Tuesday Too, cmr2014 and Dragonsrule18 for their recent reviews!**

* * *

The first thing Sam learned when he left for Stanford was that it was always sunny in California. It was sunny the day he arrived, and it was sunny the day he met Jess, and it was sunny the day they moved in together, and it was sunny (until) the day she died.

(That day she was the sun, burning brighter and hotter than he ever thought possible)

Even years after that night he still dreamt of her. At first, it had mostly been the same not-dream he'd been having for weeks, but later, as he started to heal, it was memories that assaulted him in the darkness - memories of sunshine and brightness and happiness. Sometimes it was those night he'd fear the most because they only reminded him of what he had loved and lost. There was one day in particular that featured often, but he never really knew why.

* * *

 _It was a Saturday, so neither of them had classes to go to. The sun was shining brightly outside (it was always sunny in California) but neither of them really wanted to go outside because they were perfectly happy staying inside in the shade where it was cool, thank you very much. Besides, they'd been planning a Star Wars marathon ever since the new one had come out a couple of weeks ago and it was as good a day as any._

 _She was lying with her head resting on his chest, her fingers idly playing with the hem of his t-shirt. The sun streamed through the window and turned her hair to gold thread as it set. He remembered the plain walls being painted in an orange glow and he remembered her asking him a question about his opinion on the movie, but he hadn't been able to answer because he hadn't been paying attention for the past ten minutes, instead studying her face and trying to count the freckles splashed across her tanned skin._

 _She smiled up and him and he thought – knew – that this was where he wanted to be. He wanted the sun that seemed to chase away all the things that hid in the shadows, he wanted lazy afternoons spent doing nothing at all, he wanted this golden girl who inexplicably wanted him too._

* * *

In his dreams she'd sometimes lean close and whisper that it was all his fault, before bursting into flame and laughing as the sun – his sun – burnt away into dust. Sometimes she'd pull him towards her and kiss him softly, and he'd wake up still feeling the ghost of her weighing down his chest and the touch of her lips on his.

He didn't know which was worse.

* * *

Dean often complained that monsters never once picked the sunny states to terrorise _(I freaking hate this weather. Why can't we ever find a hunt without mud and rain, huh?)_ and Sam would laugh and nod _(I hear you man)_ but a part of him was glad for it, especially at first. Welcomed it, even, because he never forgot the first lesson he learned.

It was always sunny in California.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you have a moment! I'll try and update as soon as I can. Bye!**


	12. Something Better

**A/N: Another short one I'm afraid. Stupid block. This was written for the SPN Song Creations Challenge over on tumblr with the prompt 'Over At The Frankenstein Place' from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

Sometimes it feels like they'll never escape the darkness.

They spend their lives searching for the monsters that lurk under little children's beds and killing them when they decide to come out to play. Darkness is their friend because shhhh, the people can't know what goes on when their asleep, they can't know what happens in the blackest of nights.

As much as darkness is their friend, however, it is also their enemy. Spend too long living in the shadows and they will start to take over your life. They will squash any form of light that you have left and they will grow and spread like a disease until all you can see is the endless tunnel.

Sam saw the light for a long time. He used to believe that there was something better out there than just hunting for him and Dean and he used to want to find it. He thought he had with Jess and Stanford but then that went up in flames and the light grew smaller. Every year he hoped and every year he the light diminished until his spark eventually died because he had this darkness in his very blood and he can't fight or run for much longer. There's only so many times you can watch people you love die before hope and happiness become futile and irrelevant. He still wants so badly to believe that there is a way out, but he knows that there is nothing left for him in life but darkness and shadows.

Dean admired Sam for his belief. All he's known since he was a kid was hunting, and he knows that that's what he's made for. He had one year away from it all, he let the sun shine into his life for one year and he found that he doesn't belong. He enjoyed the year with Lisa and Ben and he wishes that he could have something permanent like that but once you know the truth about the real world you can never go back to normality. Every time he heard the slightest noise, every time silence descended on the house, he would see the shadows lurking in the corner and he almost wanted to go and join them.

But, though they don't realise it, even in the darkest of lives there is a light. It may be small, it may be weak, but it's there. For Sam and Dean, it's the little things. A quiet night spent staring at the stars in silence. A Netflix binge on the couch in the Bunker. A decent meal that's actually home-cooked. They see the shadows, they see the rain, but they also see the light burning in the distance.

* * *

 **A/N: Shit that's even shorter than I realised. And probably bad. *sigh* Please leave a review if you have a moment and I'll update soon (hopefully tomorrow or Tuesday!) which I can promise because I've discovered something I meant to publish but never did for some reason. Whoops. Bye!**


	13. Song of the Mountain

**A/N: I should never promise when I'll update because even if I'm doing nothing (which I have been for about four weeks) I'm such a lazy fuck that I'll find a way to put it off. As an apology, I'm giving you a few chapters today. They're all relatively short but I hope they're okay.**

* * *

Jess loved to sing. Sam was horrible himself, a fact she had only found out after she'd dragged him to karaoke one New Year's Eve. She was mortified after, but got over it pretty quickly with many apologies from Sam. She sang everywhere; in the car, on the way to class, while she was baking, there was barely a moment she wasn't humming some tune or another. Sam loved listening to how she could shape the melody any way she wanted and how she managed to hit every note perfectly. Those would become some of the moments he would treasure the most after it all crashed and burned around him.

One song he always loved hearing was _Wild Mountain Thyme_. He wasn't sure why; it was hardly the classic rock he had practically been raised on. There was just something about the lyrics, and the way she sang them, that resonated with him. Every time he heard it, it just gave him an overwhelming sense of hope. Summer _was_ coming. Everything _would_ be alright.

* * *

After exams had been and gone in his third year, Brady and a couple of his other friends decided they wanted to go away camping in the mountains, and that they wanted to drag Sam and Jess along with them. They hadn't complained much, not really, because they both needed a break and it might be nice to get away from it all for a while, despite how strange Brady had been acting lately. Maybe the holiday would help him.

* * *

It was on the second to last day when Sam found it. He'd researched the purple plant after Jess had first discovered the song so he knew it immediately when he spotted it nestling in a corner by some rocks. He ran over to the bush and grabbed a few, jumping when Jess asked him what he was doing. He grinned sheepishly and turned round, holding the flowers loosely in his hand. A thought occurred to him and he took one and tucked it into her hair above her ear. The purple stood out starkly against her blonde hair and made her blue eyes look almost violet in the early morning light. She smiled widely and leaned in to kiss him deeply. It seemed perfect – almost, as their friends climbed out their tents and started whistling and yelling at them to 'get a room'. In that moment, though, Sam didn't care; he was just happy to be with her on that mountain.

And even years later, whenever he saw some wild mountain thyme, he would remember, and he would smile.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed that! Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	14. Warning Signs

**A/N: This one is really fucking short and also kind of terrible, but to be fair to myself I was on a bit of a deadline and I was writing it at stupid o'clock. The prompt for this was burnt toast and I'll explain my idea at the end because it's kind of weird.**

* * *

Sam learned to know when a vision was about to hit. There was the most obvious clue of the splitting headache that always seemed to last far longer than was really necessary, but there were some more subtle signs too that he eventually began to pick up on. His vision would blur and his hearing seemed to become sharper. Sometimes he'd feel like they were being watched, or simply just a sense of dread. And then there was the strangest one: the smell of burnt toast.

* * *

The first time it happened, he and Jess had been getting ready for bed and she had stepped into the bathroom for a moment. His head had been pounding for a while but he put it down to the fact that he'd been pulling a few all-nighters that week to get a project done. At first he'd assumed that Jess had made some toast and left it for a little too long, but further inspection told him he was wrong. He'd asked her about it when she came back into the bedroom; she'd frowned before her eyes had blown wide and she started checking he wasn't having a stroke or something. He'd laughed it off and assured her he felt fine, but she still refused to sleep until he promised to go to the doctor's if it was still there in the morning.

That night he saw her burn on the ceiling for the first time.

* * *

It started happening more frequently and he learned not to say anything to avoid freaking them out too much. In truth, it freaked him out, but the John Winchester Academy had taught him how to hide everything beneath a mask of calm.

The smell was generally the first clue, first appearing about a minute before the vision. Not that it did any good; he couldn't control them and he never got used to how goddamn painful they were, especially when they progressed to daytime occurrences. He supposed it was nice if his freak powers to give him a little warning, but he could never quite appreciate it.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so a while back I read this book series called 'The Power of Five' and in it there were children with powers and psychic abilities and (if I remember right, it's been a few years since I've read them) at least one of the kids smells burnt toast before his powers manifest. And I thought this fit Sam quite well so I ran with it. Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	15. To Fear a Friend

**A/N: There's still a couple more chapters today to upload! I hope you're enjoying them so far.**

* * *

Charlie had never been afraid of Dean. When they had first met she had been wary of him, sure; the guy was like freaking Captain America. But he had never given her cause to be scared of him.

This version of Dean, though, this scared her. He put on a front when he was around them, smiled and laughed and talked, but there was something dark flickering in his eyes that let on that things weren't as fine as he pretended. Sometimes he'd stare off into space and scratch at the spot on his arm where the Mark was. She could have sworn she saw it glow orange under his shirt. Then someone would speak to him and the mask would go back up and 'Dean' would be back.

* * *

She'd heard things, too. When Sam had first enlisted her help she had expressed doubt that Dean really needed this, because he seemed okay. Sam had quietly taken her aside and told her of the men he had murdered without provocation on the case with Claire and the hunter he had caused to die. That had been bad enough, but she'd noticed the way Sam flinched slightly when Dean got too close. She didn't want to pry, but she had to know so she'd asked and, after a lot of hesitation on his part and prompting on hers, he'd relented and told her how Dean had almost caved his head in with a hammer a few months back.

( _But it's okay_ , he'd hurriedly said, _that was when he was a demon. He's… better now. We can't let him get to that stage again though, Charlie. That's why I need your help_ )

* * *

She knew Dean was a killer. She'd seen him lop the heads off Leviathan and gun down zombie-vamps in her Red Scare dreamscape. This Mark - this disease - was twisting those instincts and warping them into something she no longer recognised. She loved Dean, she really did, but this new version of him terrified her and she had only seen the surface. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Sam to see his brother turn into something he wasn't. Not only that - to see him return to his normal self only to slowly change back again and be helpless to stop it.

* * *

She knew how desperate the situation had gotten when she saw Sam had enlisted the help of Rowena. She didn't know the witch, but she could tell that she wasn't someone you trusted lightly, especially not with something so big or important. She didn't like working with her, but she was willing to do anything to save Dean. The Winchesters were the brothers she had never wanted until she had them and she would give her life to rescue Dean if she had to.

She just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

 **A/N: I couldn't resist adding that last line. I love Charlie, but I love being angsty and horrible in my writing more so... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review if you have a moment! Bye!**


	16. Beginnings

**A/N: Look at that it's another poem! For this month the theme was 'First Lines' and my prompt was 'It started where it all began'. I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you guys like it too!**

* * *

It started where it all began -

A burning room

(A burning girl)

The heat seared his skin

Hotter than last time

Hotter than he remembered

(But he didn't remember that night. Not really)

(He'd remember this one)

Sam didn't want to go.

He struggled

And it broke Dean's heart

But he needed this kid

And Sam needed him

(Didn't he?)

So it started where it all began -

Sam and Dean,

Heartbreak behind them,

And a road ahead.

* * *

 **A/N: I think maybe one more chapter today? I found a lot of unpublished shit when I was cleaning up my folders. Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	17. Scars

**A/N: Last update for today! I think I've just about made up for any inactivity on my part. This one is longer than the rest and I'm really proud of it, too. It was originally written for the Celebrating Sam challenge on ohsam, but I missed the deadline by a long way as I was pretty busy at the time and I've only just now gotten around to finishing it. Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

They say Hell leaves scars on the soul and that, if cut deep enough, they will appear on the physical body. Of course, this theory is just a theory as, well, most people simply don't just come back from Hell and many aren't inclined to go around digging up bodies on the off chance they may have some new scars marring the rotting flesh.

When Castiel raised Dean Winchester from Perdition he healed the Righteous Man's battered and broken soul. Any mark deep enough to manifest disappeared under the angel's touch and, when he was done, the only scar that remained was a handprint burnt onto his right shoulder. Castiel tried to do the same for Sam and, indeed, thought he had succeeded as was no trace of Hell on Sam's body upon his return from the pit. But it is difficult to heal a soul that is not there and so the scars remained.

And Death? Death was not so kind.

It did not matter to him what condition one insignificant soul was in. As long as the boy could walk and talk then he could get Dean off his back and go back to reaping souls rather than raising them. So Sam's soul would remain scarred and flayed for all eternity.

* * *

Dean learned not to ask after the first time. He had spotted some angry red marks peeking out of the collar of Sam's shirt and demanded his brother tell him what happened. Sam's brow had furrowed in confusion then he had collapsed to the floor, his face contorted into a look of abject terror. He had stayed like that for almost half an hour, unresponsive to Dean's pleas, eyes flitting madly back and forward like he was watching something Dean couldn't see. Much to his brother's relief, Sam eventually pulled himself out of whatever nightmare he was stuck in, but he refused to talk about it, and Dean tried not to worry in an attempt to keep Sam's wall from crumbling utterly. Of course, that plan failed utterly and the wall was obliterated anyway. Granted, that wasn't Sam's fault but it made everything so much worse as Sam knew how every single scar had come into being and, with Lucifer lurking at every corner, it made it all the harder to keep Sam grounded and present.

* * *

Sometimes Dean would wonder if his idea to use the scar on Sam's left hand as a way of keeping Lucifer at bay was such a good idea. Sure, the pain that made the mark may not have been real then, but it sure was now, and some of Sam's Hell-scars far worse than a simple slice across the hand.

(And, God, Dean would never forget the time he had arrived back at the motel room to find Sam attempting to scratch open the silvery marks that traced vertically up his wrists. He had grabbed his brother's hands and his heart had shattered as Sam looked up at him with unshed tears in his eyes and whispered that he just wanted it to stop.)

* * *

After Sam's admission into the mental hospital the doctor had taken him aside and quietly asked about the numerous scars that webbed out across Sam's body, particularly the twisted mass of tissue across his lower back (and Dean had almost laughed about that because apparently the one scar that wasn't Hell related was cause for the most concern). He had spun some bullshit story that the doctor didn't seem to believe but, honestly, Dean couldn't care less because it was the best he could come up with and if that wasn't good enough then they could see how they liked the truth instead.

* * *

Things got easier after Cas took away the hallucinations. Easier, but not ever easy, because, as Sam frequently pointed out, he had only taken the madness, not the memories. Sam took to covering up as much of his body as he could to avoid unwanted questions and stares. He would still flinch slightly and shrink in on himself a little whenever Lucifer's name was mentioned, and Dean could only imagine what it must have felt like to be forced to work with him after everything he had done to Sam.

* * *

The worst thing, though? Cas had offered to heal Sam many times. He said his grace wasn't powerful enough anymore to get rid of all the marks, but he could get rid of the worst ones if Sam wanted. Dean was ready to jump on the opportunity, but Sam had refused every single time. And Dean swore his blood froze for a moment when Sam had darkly muttered that he needed the reminder.

* * *

 **A/N: I've had this idea for a long time so I had fun writing this, I've got to say. I don't like the ending much but I'm proud of the rest. Please leave a review if you have a moment and hopefully I'll update soon. Bye!**


	18. Birthday Surprise

**A/N: I know it's been a while since I last updated. Nothing was supposed to happen this holiday, and then everything happened all at once and it kind of knocked me for six. This is for the Rare Ship CC on tumblr and my prompt was ice cream.**

 **Thanks to jaconda, Shadowpletlove, cmr2014, Alexandria M. R, and Dragonsrule18 for the recent reviews!**

 **Warning for mild sexual innuendo, but there's nothing explicit.**

* * *

Charlie smiled tenderly at the woman sleeping next to her. Jo looked so peaceful and happy that Charlie was reluctant to wake her, but it was nearing eleven and if she didn't get up soon they wouldn't get anything done. Besides, it was the first birthday they could celebrate as a couple, and Charlie didn't want to miss a minute of it.

Under normal circumstances, Charlie might have blasted the pop music Jo hated so much at full volume, but she decided that might be a little cruel on her birthday. Instead, she settled for shaking her girlfriend's shoulder and dropping a light kiss on her forehead, sitting back against the headboard as Jo's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Morning sunshine."

Jo groaned and squinted up at Charlie. "Wha' time's it?" she muttered blearily.

"Time you got up. Come on," Charlie encouraged, tugging at Jo's arm. Jo feebly struggled against her, attempting to burrow back underneath the covers.

"Come on, Charl," she whined. "It's my birthday, aren't I allowed a lie in?"

"No."

"Such a dictator."

* * *

It took a while, but eventually Charlie managed to convince Jo to get up and shower. When she was dressed and reasonably awake, she dragged her downstairs and proceeded to lavish presents and a (slightly burnt) cooked breakfast upon her. Cooking wasn't exactly one of Charlie's strong points, but she was proud of herself for at least trying, and her efforts were rewarded with a peal of laughter from Jo.

"So, what do you want to do?" Charlie asked, once the breakfast dishes and torn wrapping paper were cleared away.

Jo cocked one eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you got me up this early and you didn't even have a plan?"

"I wanted to leave it up to you," Charlie defended. "I did have some ideas, though. We could go to the movies – I don't know what's on, but there's probably something mildly interesting – or we could eat out…" Charlie's voice trailed off as she noticed Jo's eyes light up at her words. She flushed a deep red. " _Not_ what I meant," she said firmly, then curled her mouth up in a sly smile and winked. "But… if you insist, maybe later."

Jo laughed again. "I'll hold you to that," she teased. "Until then, though… Ice cream?"

Charlie gaped at her girlfriend. "It's the middle of October!" she protested, before sighing at Jo's pleading look. "Fine. Don't say I never gave you anything."

Jo beamed and kissed Charlie on the cheek. "C'mon then, Red, what are you waiting for?"

Charlie huffed a laugh at Jo's excitement before getting up to retrieve her coat and head to the park.

* * *

Fortunately, it was a fairly sunny day, so the ice cream van was parked in a shady spot near the park's entrance. Charlie had worried that it wouldn't be, considering it was still cold enough to warrant a coat, but she was relieved when she saw the familiar bright blue of the van. Jo bounded over to it, dragging Charlie along behind her, and frowned at the menu.

"What do you think I should get?" she asked, turning to Charlie.

Charlie shrugged helplessly. "Whatever you want, babe. My treat."

After much deliberating, Jo settled on a double cone, insisting they share rather than buy two separate ones. The man behind the counter eyed them suspiciously, but made no comment as he handed over their ice cream. Charlie paid him quickly then steered Jo over to an empty bench in a secluded corner. It was awkward with both of them trying to lick it at the same time, but somehow they managed not to smack foreheads too much by taking turns.

It was on one of Charlie's turns when Jo decided to jerk her arm just as she was leaning in, resulting in Charlie getting a face full of melting ice cream. She sat in stunned silence as Jo howled with laughter at the sight of cream dripping down Charlie's nose and sticking her hair together.

"Jo!" Charlie exclaimed, attempting to wipe away some of the mess, but only succeeding in spreading it more. She gave up and instead swatted her girlfriend's arm, grimacing as the fibres of her jacket got came away with her sticky hand. This only made Jo laugh harder, and Charlie took the distraction as an opportunity to get revenge by shoving her face into what was left of the ice cream. Jo gasped in shock and glared at Charlie, but there wasn't any heat behind the gaze. She stood up and threw the splintered cone in the nearby bin before stalking back to stand in front of Charlie, arms crossed. She bent over and took Charlie's face in her hands, looking deep into her eyes and kissing her hard on the mouth. Charlie's eyes fluttered closed and she melted into the touch of Jo's lips on hers, winding her arms around Jo and holding her close.

The kiss seemed to last forever, but Charlie soon became aware of their surroundings and pulled back.

"Jo," she whispered. "Stop. People are staring."

"Let them," Jo murmured, but relented, sitting back on her heels. She took one look at Charlie and burst into laughter. "What a sight we must look," she giggled. Her laugh was infectious, and Charlie quickly succumbed too. The pair staggered home like two drunks, stopping every few seconds to laugh anew at the strange looks they were getting from passers-by.

* * *

Once they were both showered and curled up together in bed, Jo turned to Charlie and nudged her.

"Hmm?"

Jo lifted herself up on her elbow and traced circles on Charlie's arm with her nail. "So… About that other treat you promised me earlier."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure you deserve it," she teased. "You've been particularly naughty today."

"Oh, I'll show you just how naughty I can be."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't actually know when Jo's birthday is so I just took a guess. If you do know, please correct me if I'm wrong. I hope you enjoyed that, and please review if you have a moment! Bye!**


	19. A Soul for a Soul

**A/N: It's been a long time my dudes. Sorry about that. One word: College. The new season is giving me some good material though so fingers crossed there are many more updates coming your way shortly.**

 **Thanks to Dragonsrule18, Shadowpletlove, cmr2014, and GleeJunkie007 for your recent reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying these!**

 **WARNING for torture and gore**

* * *

"Hey, Sam," Lucifer mused, picking blood and flesh out of his fingernails. "I've been feeling generous of late. Michael isn't his old self anymore and, honestly, torturing both you and your brother? Not my thing. I'm more of a 'one-girl-at-a-time' person, you know?"

Sam sighed wearily and let his eyes slip closed, slumping to the side. Before he could hit the floor, however, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder and hauled him upright again, digging his nails into the flesh of Sam's shoulder.

"Ah, ah, can't be having that now. I need you listening; this is very important Sam." Lucifer frowned in concentration, then clicked his fingers. Sam and Adam were both immediately suspended from the bars of the Cage, their wounds knitting closed. He nodded in satisfaction and grinned wickedly. "Now that I have your attention."

Lucifer strolled over to Sam and stroked a finger down his face. Sam cringed away from the freezing touch, but Lucifer tutted and backhanded him, before resuming the action. "Do you remember when Dean told you about the deal Alastair offered him in Hell?" he crooned softly, making sure Adam couldn't hear. "I'm prepared to offer you that same deal. But Luci, you cry, there aren't any souls down here for me to torture. Well, that's where you're wrong." He grinned and stabbed a finger at Adam. "You get off the rack and go torture him. Whaddya say, Sammy?"

Sam glared at Lucifer. "No."

Lucifer sighed in disappointment. "Isn't that word getting kind of old now? How 'bout we change it up a bit, I mean, it worked so well for you last time, right?"

"No."

Lucifer pouted and punched through Sam's chest. Sam gasped as he felt cold fingers feeling their way to his heart as Lucifer leaned in closely, his breath tickling Sam's ear. "Always the hero, right Sam?" he whispered. "Let's see what little brother has to say."

The hand was yanked free and Sam heaved in rattling breaths, his chest already beginning to heal. He couldn't hear anything that was being said, but saw Adam's wide, terrified eyes and felt a twinge of sympathy for the kid. He should never have been dragged into this life, and it was all Sam's fault that he was stuck down here.

* * *

Lucifer laughed suddenly, and Sam immediately knew what Adam's decision had been. He didn't blame the kid, really, he didn't. Adam had suffered enough already, and it wasn't fair that he should endure more. The voice in the back of his mind screamed for attention, saying that hadn't he suffered too, but Sam pushed it down. He deserved this. Adam didn't.

Sam heard Lucifer snap his fingers again, then the thump of a body hitting the floor. Lucifer was practically dancing as he made his way back to Sam, cackling loudly.

"You hear that, Sam?" he laughed. "Little brother took the deal! Kid's got some spunk after all."

Adam emerged in Sam's periphery, his head bowed guiltily.

"Adam," Sam called softly. Adam looked up hesitantly, unable to meet Sam's gaze, his eyes glimmering with tears. "Adam, it's alright. It's alright."

Lucifer sighed impatiently and thrust a wicked looking blade into Adam's hand. "Alright kid, it's your time to shine. Show me what you've got."

Adam shuffled until he was directly in front of Sam. He raised the blade so that the tip just barely touched Sam's navel. "Sam, I'm sorry," he rasped out, then plunged the knife in, carving lines along Sam's flesh randomly. It was clumsy and it was messy, but it hurt like Hell, and it seemed to entertain Lucifer.

The archangel laughed wildly and danced around the two of them, offering advice to Adam occasionally.

"Right there, that'll really make him scream."

"Oh, oh, go for the fingertips, they're really sensitive."

"Come on, kiddo, don't hold back."

The centuries went on and so did the torture. Under Lucifer's tutelage Adam grew better and began to start enjoying the torture. After so many years that Sam had stopped counting, Adam's bright blue eyes bled into black.

* * *

Dean only asked about Adam once. It was a hesitant question, and Sam didn't say much in reply, just shrugged and said he never saw him much.

"He was Michael's property," he lied. "Lucifer didn't care about him."

A part of Sam wondered why he protected Adam after all he did - after all he became - but Dean's anger would be for nothing. Besides, it was all years in the past, so Sam should really be over it by now. And he is. Absolutely.

As for why he wakes up in cold sweats during the early hours of the night, seeing cold blue eyes that blink into obsidian, well. That's his problem to deal with.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you liked that! The prompt was from the OhSam comment meme over on LiveJournal and it read as follows:**

 **'In the cage, Lucifer offered Sam and Adam the same deal Alistair offered Dean: he'll stop torturing them if they torture each other. Sam doesn't take it. Adam does.**  
 **Bonus points if you include Sam dealing with his feelings about Adam once he got out: anger, fear, forgiveness, regret, compassion etc'**

 **Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	20. the stars shone on us tonight

**A/N: This was supposed to be a Halloween fic. Clearly, that didn't turn out so well, so now it's a Christmas fic! Written for the Rare Ship Creations Challenge on Tumblr. Probably predictably, my ship was Charvelle and my prompt was cool nights and/or jack o lanterns. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Charlie smiled softly as she watched Jo through the window in their front room. They'd decorated for Christmas that day, Charlie taking the tree and indoor decorations, and Jo stringing up the outdoor lights. Jo had finished some time ago, but she'd decided to stay outside, choosing to sit on the steps leading up to the front door. She had looked so peaceful that Charlie was initially reluctant to disturb her, but night was beginning to truly fall, so now she was anxious to make sure Jo wasn't too cold out there. She hung the last bauble on a random branch, then, after taking a minute or two to admire her handiwork, headed into the kitchen.

* * *

Jo looked up as the front door creaked open and Charlie smiled at her, carefully lifting the steaming mugs in her hands.

"Hot chocolate," she said softly. "And a blanket."

Jo rolled her eyes and smiled exasperatedly, but got up and took the hot chocolate from Charlie, placing both mugs on the steps. "Thanks," she smiled. "It's really not that cold, you know."

Charlie shrugged and grinned at her girlfriend. "I don't care. Besides, don't all the girls in the movies spend at least one night on the front porch with blankets and hot chocolate?"

Jo laughed and grabbed Charlie's hand, pulling her down with her. Charlie squeaked in surprise and yelped as she hit the decking, rubbing her back where the fall had jarred her.

"Jo!" she protested, punching Jo lightly on the shoulder. The other girl laughed and slung an arm round Charlie, pulling her close and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Charlie grumbled under her breath but snuggled in close, draping the blanket around their shoulders and laying her head on Jo's shoulder.

"You're lucky I'm so forgiving," she murmured.

Jo didn't reply, but kissed Charlie again and tightened her arm around her. They sat in silence for a while, watching the stars light up the night sky. It was a fortunately cloudless night and a cool breeze ruffled through their hair. Charlie sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

* * *

Jo shifted some time later, rousing Charlie from her doze. She felt soft hands running gently through her hair and opened her eyes, smiling up at her girlfriend.

"Hey," Jo whispered, gazing fondly down at her.

Charlie moved an arm and felt in her pocket, breathing a sigh of relief as she felt the present she'd slipped out with her still there. She pulled it out and sat up, using her free hand to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

"Jo?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"I, um, I know it's only a couple of weeks until Christmas, but I kind of wanted to give this to you now." She turned to face Jo and handed her the small box she'd painstakingly wrapped that afternoon.

Jo laughed and took it from her, shaking it gently. "Okay then. But you're going to have to wait until Christmas for all your gifts, Miss Bradbury," she warned mockingly, pointing a stern finger at Charlie.

Charlie just nodded, eyes fixated on the gift as sudden nervousness erupted in her stomach. What if Jo didn't want it? What if Charlie had completely misjudged? What if-

"Charlie," Jo barely whispered, her voice trembling as she stared down at the ring glittering brightly in the moonlight. Charlie swallowed thickly and gazed hopefully at Jo.

"Do you..?"

"I- I don't know what to say," Jo stammered.

"Say yes," Charlie said, confidence briefly filling her. "I mean, you can say no, but..." She took a deep breath. "I love you, Jo, and I know you're the one I want to spend my life with. You're smart, funny, brave, kind, loving, and I have never met anyone like you in my life. So, Jo Harvelle, will you marry me?"

A beat passed and Charlie began to worry she'd messed it up somehow, but then Jo surged forwards and kissed her hard. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, Charlie, yes!"

Charlie laughed and reached out to slide the ring onto Jo's finger, entwining their hands on her lap.

"We'll have to get you one now," Jo said, running her thumb over the jewel.

"Well, Christmas is just around the corner..."

Jo swatted her, then used her free hand to turn Charlie towards her. She leaned in and they kissed, gently, softly, slowly, as the moon and the stars shone down on them and the cool night air tangled strands of red and gold together.

* * *

 **A/N: Engagement fic, yay! I hope that wasn't too cheesy or predictable or anything. Please review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	21. Find No Scar

**A/N: I wrote this fic way back in November for a comment fic meme on the ohsam LiveJournal page. I didn't post it on here originally because of the content, and I have agonised long and hard over posting it since then. However, after seeing the response it got on LiveJournal, and after much thought, I have decided to put it up.**

 **I need to say that this fic comes with some pretty hefty trigger warnings, which I will detail below, so if this has the potential to trigger you in any way, I have to advise caution in reading.**

 **WARNING for suicide, suicidal thoughts, and multiple suicide attempts, as well as reference to torture**

* * *

In hindsight, it was a stupid idea. You should have known that Lucifer would follow through with his promise, but you thought that it couldn't hurt to try. Turns out you were oh so wrong.

After he'd visited you, all you could think about was how much sense everything made now. You didn't want to believe that you were his vessel - you still don't - but the more you thought about it, the more the pieces clicked into place. All your life you'd been the 'freak', the outsider. Everything good you'd ever had had eventually turned sour in your mouth, and anything good you'd ever tried to do had gone wrong. This was why demons had followed you around your entire life. This was why you poisoned everything you touched. This was why you had pure evil running through your veins, and this was why Dad wanted you to die.

As you thought about Dad, an idea formed in your mind. It wasn't necessarily a good idea, or a smart one, but the time for smart evasion tactics was over. You'd tried that, and he'd found you anyway. So.

If this worked (and it had to work) the world wouldn't end. So maybe Lucifer would still be roaming the earth. But his vessel was falling apart, and without his true vessel he could never hope to take on Michael and win. Besides, Dean and Bobby and Cas would do just fine without you. They'd figure out a way to stop the fight from ever happening in the first place. And a world without you in it to screw it up more than it already was would surely be a better world. It was a win-win situation really.

You knew that Lucifer had said he would bring you back if you killed yourself. In the back of your mind you knew he wasn't lying. Trouble is, you didn't care. Dad had been right all along; removing yourself from the equation was the best course of action. That way it was only you who would get hurt. Dean probably didn't even care anyway, probably thought you were off living your forgotten apple pie dream and wouldn't bother to contact you ever again. Maybe Lucifer would bring you back. Maybe he wouldn't. Either way, you had to try.

You weren't sure how you wanted to do it. A gun would be the quickest, but it would also alert the neighbours, which wasn't exactly ideal. You could use a rope, but you didn't trust the shitty motel fixings to be strong enough to hold you. You looked down at your wrists and traced the veins up your arm. You had a razor in your bag, and plenty of sharpened knives that would do the trick just as easily. You took one out and lightly dragged the tip along the pale skin, leaving behind a white imprint that quickly faded away. You nodded to yourself and grasped the blade tighter, heading towards the small bathroom.

* * *

As you lay back in the too small tub you wondered if Lucifer was watching you. Laughing, maybe, at your sheer stupidity and ignorance. You decided you didn't care.

The first cut hurt and you wondered if you would ever get used to being sliced up. Not that it mattered anymore. With shaking hands, you opened your other wrist and dropped the blade over the side of the bath, breathing heavily. The pain in your arms had faded to a dull, stinging throb and you watched in almost fascination as red painted the pale white skin and dripped down into the water in thin, spidery lines. Your head began to feel too heavy to hold up so you rested it against the dirty porcelain, lazily noting the numerous cracks in the ceiling. Maybe it would fall in and finish the job for you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your breaths became fewer, and further between. As you faded away, a sense of catharsis washed over you, and a slow smile briefly spread across your face as you revelled in the knowledge that you had at least done one good thing for this world.

* * *

You woke up to see Lucifer's face leering over you, and you thought that maybe you had gone to Hell. Then he moved away and you realised that you were still floating in the scarlet water, your wrists somehow sealed shut.

"Hey Sam," Lucifer sneered, then grabbed you by your shirtfront and hauled you out the water. You tried to get up, but he pushed you back down so you lay dripping wet at his feet.

"You know," he started, almost conversationally. "I honestly didn't take you for an idiot. Dean, sure, but you? Come on, Sam, you know better than this. We're alike, you and I, so surely you know I don't go back on my word."

"I am not like you," you ground out.

Lucifer laughed. "Really? Okay, let's see. Younger brother with unresolved issues against a domineering older brother? Check. Rebelling against Daddy's orders because you knew they were complete bullshit? Check. Trying to do what you think is right, only to get shot down and cast out for it? Check."

"No."

Lucifer smirked and shook his head. "Deny yourself the truth if you want, Sam, but deep down you know you are just like me. Which is why, by the way, you will say yes to me."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Lucifer raised a hand and suddenly you couldn't speak. "Look. Just apologise and we'll sweep this one under the rug, alright? I'll leave, you can go back to your pathetic little lie, and everything will turn out fine in the end."

You glared at him in defiance, so he sighed and clenched his fist. You choked, unable to breathe, and clawed at the floor. "I've tried being nice, Sam. But I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of your resistance, so I guess I'll just have to teach you a little respect."

He released his hold on you and you gasped for breath, but your relief was short-lived as he began landing blows on your stomach, your chest, your face, anywhere he could reach. You tried fighting back, but Lucifer was strong, so you just curled into a ball and watched your blood drip onto the tile beneath you.

When he was done, you were a beaten and bruised mess. He surveyed you for a moment before snapping his fingers, healing you instantly. You didn't uncurl yourself straight away, though, too tired to move.

"Consider that your final warning," Lucifer threatened, then disappeared.

After he left, you found yourself more determined than ever to beat him. You tried to die twice more before returning to Dean, once by shooting yourself, once by an overdose of meds, because you still figured that it was better you die than stay alive. Neither attempt worked, however, and each time Lucifer appeared angrier than before. He rained hell down on you, leaving you good as new.

He told you he had to heal you fully, not wanting a damaged vessel. He didn't seem to know that he had one already.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm still really hesitant and anxious to post this, so if anyone thinks I should take it down, please let me know. The full prompt was as follows:**

 **'Sam actually kills himself to keep from being Lucifer's vessel. And Lucifer keeps his promise to just bring him back.'**


	22. All I Know

**A/N: This was written for the Rare Ship Creations Challenge on tumblr. I chose Charlie/Jo and my prompt was 'snowed in without power and moonstruck'. This was quite fun to write and I hope you guys like it!**

* * *

"Oh, come on!" Jo yelled, as the lights flickered and turned off, plunging the house into darkness. Stupid snow keeping them in the house and cutting off their power. She huffed and hauled herself over to the switch, flipping it several times before deciding that the power was truly gone.

"Charlie!" she shouted up the stairs. "Power's gone!"

"I noticed!" Charlie's muffled voice came from their bedroom, accompanied by a series of crashes as she made her way out onto the landing. She descended the stairs to meet Jo, rubbing her hip and grimacing in pain.

"We really need to stick something on those corners," she grumbled.

Jo laughed and grabbed Charlie's arm, pulling her down the hallway. "Come on, I think there's some torches in the kitchen."

* * *

Jo smirked as she squatted to hunt through the bottom cupboards, feeling Charlie's eyes firmly on her ass. She shifted a little, allowing her shirt to ride further up her back, and glanced over her shoulder at her girlfriend.

"A little light wouldn't go amiss, you know," she said wryly, stifling a laugh as Charlie jumped and almost dropped her phone when she slid it out of her pocket.

"Right, yes, of course," she muttered, switching on the torch and directing it towards the cupboard. In the thin beam generated from the phone, Jo's eyes lighted upon something unfamiliar that had been shoved to the back. She frowned and reached inside, pulling the object out and straightening.

"That doesn't look like a- Oh my god," Charlie exclaimed, diving into the cupboard and pulling out another handful of candles, grinning widely. "I always did want to take a beautiful girl on a candlelit date."

Jo rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but laugh at her ridiculous girlfriend. "And who might this beautiful girl be?" she asked playfully, deciding to go along with it.

Charlie hummed and smiled flirtatiously. "Tall, blonde, impeccable ass," she listed, moving towards Jo. "Happen to know anyone like that?"

"Can't say that I do," Jo murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Before their lips could meet, however, Jo lifted a finger and placed it on Charlie's mouth, smiling coyly. "Better not keep her waiting," she said, then pressed the remaining candles into Charlie's hands and headed upstairs.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie came bounding up the stairs and into their room. "Put this on," she ordered, holding out a blindfold.

"It's dark enough as it is Charl," Jo said in bemusement.

Charlie huffed. "Please," she begged.

"Fine," Jo relented, tying the cloth around her head. "Lead the way."

Progress downstairs was slow - Jo thought that maybe Charlie was almost as blind in the darkened hallway as she was - but eventually they stopped and Jo felt Charlie tugging on the knot in the blindfold. She blinked as the cloth fell away, then gaped at the sight before her eyes.

The candles cast a warm glow around the room, at the centre of which was a table bearing several bowls of tortilla chips and a salsa dip, along with a bottle of wine they'd been saving and two glasses.

"I couldn't find any real food," Charlie apologised, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "But this is okay, right?"

Jo turned to face her, and any rational thought immediately flew out of her head. Charlie's cheeks had a reddish tint to them, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a wave of flame. She had never looked more beautiful, and Jo was suddenly struck with how much she loved her.

"I- it- you-" Jo stammered, finding herself incapable of coherent speech. She sighed in frustration, then grabbed Charlie's face and pulled her into a kiss, a sense of relief washing over her when Charlie began kissing back. She leaned their foreheads together when they separated and rubbed their noses together, sighing softly.

"It's perfect," Jo whispered. "You're perfect."

Jo felt Charlie's hands tighten in her hair, and this time it was Charlie who drew them into a kiss. Jo smiled against Charlie's mouth and held her girlfriend tight, feeling their hearts beat together as one.

* * *

 **A/N: Not sure how that turned out but I hope you guys like it! Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


	23. all the perfumes of arabia

**Set during season 7, somewhere between Repo Man and The Born-Again Identity. Prompt from the OhSam forum on LJ for their annual November 2nd hurt/comfort meme. I'll put it at the end because it might spoil the plot a bit. Chapter title from my favourite Shakespeare, Macbeth, A5 S1**

 **WARNING for blood and gore**

* * *

"Hey Sam!" Lucifer says cheerily, startling Sam out of the doze he'd been about to fall into.

Sam sighs and closes his eyes wearily, forcing back the gathering tears. He doesn't know how long he's been awake for; he lost count of the days a long time ago. His entire body feel heavy, his limbs chained to the bed with weariness. He just wants some rest.

He rolls over, facing towards Dean where he's snoring softly in his own bed. Must be nice. He curls up and pulls the covers tight, trying to ignore the lingering presence at his back, but he can still feel him there, watching, enjoying. The bed dips a little as Lucifer sinks down, Sam stifling a flinch when his hand lands on his shoulder. The touch is almost gentle, but for the nearly painful chill that runs through Sam's entire body in that moment.

Lucifer sighs. "Come on, Sam," he whines. "I need talking, I need interaction, you know, just like old times. We used to have so much fun, remember? Let's see... ooh! Like when we started the apocalypse together! That was good, right?"

Sam shifts and presses his hands over his ears - not that it does much good. He almost laughs at his own stupidity; Lucifer is inside his head, there's no way for Sam to block him out.

"Have you ever thought about it," Lucifer muses. "Like, ever, _really_ thought about it? Oh, Sam, you didn't see the half of it; all those people, all over the world, thousands - maybe even millions - dead, because of you and me. Mostly you, of course - I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you tripping the switch on my cage."

He sounds so casual as he talks, which Sam knows is the point. Lucifer is cruel, but he's also smart; he knows how Sam will react to what he's saying. He knows everything about Sam, really.

"It was so beautiful. Just imagine it, Sam, the world we could have built. A world without all those _people_ , without so many... imperfections. We could have done it, Sam, we were so close. And then you had to go and screw it all up, as usual. And for what? An eternity in the Cage with me." He laughs harshly. "Guess I shouldn't complain."

Sam curls up tighter, but suddenly there is something hot and sticky coating his fingers. He pulls his hands away from his ears and stares in horror as thick rivulets of blood drip down his wrists and onto the bedsheets.

"No," he whispers desperately, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, this isn't real, this isn't happening." When he opens his eyes again, the blood is still there, but there's more of it now, more of it every second.

"Oh, it's real alright," Lucifer says conversationally. "I mean, okay, _technically_ , it's not real, but you and I both know you have all that blood on your hands, and it just keeps coming, doesn't it Sam? How many people have you failed to save? How many people have died because of what you've done?"

Sam lurches out of bed, holding his hands out in front of him. He scrabbles with the bathroom door, finally managing to get it open, leaving a large, bloody stain on the handle. He leaves the light off - he doesn't think he'd be able to stand it if it was on - and turns on the tap, frantically trying to wash the blood away. The water turns pink and there's blood all over the sink, but it still won't come off his hands, no matter how much he tries. He sobs in despair, but continues washing, hoping the noises won't wake Dean.

"Well, look at you, Lady Macbeth," Lucifer quips, making Sam jump. He's lounging in the doorway, watching with something akin to amusement on his face. "Gotta say, I'm a little disappointed. I mean, you used to be so tough, and now... Startled at the sight of a little blood? Really Sam?"

Sam turns away from him, still holding his hands lifelessly under the now-freezing water. He breathes heavily, feeling the cold numbness spread through his body.

"Sam?" Lucifer says, though his voice sounds different now. Sam's too tired to figure out why.

"Shut up," he replies weakly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of breaking down completely..

Then again, "Sam?" And his voice is definitely not Lucifer's now, it's Dean's, and _shit_ he's woken up, which means Sam's going to need a good cover story for why he's standing in a dark bathroom -

The light clicks on, and there's no blood on his hands. The sink is the same suspiciously-stained off-white it's been since they got here and there are no red marks on the taps. If he looks behind Dean, his bedclothes are clean, and there's no Lucifer in sight. Sam feels heat rise on his cheeks in shame - how could he have been so _stupid?_

Dean comes into the bathroom, looking around like he's expecting a threat. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks, turning a concerned gaze on Sam. Sam looks away, not able to meet Dean's eyes.

"I - I, um - I thought -" He trails off, unable to think of the words. He squeezes his eyes closed instead, trying to banish the memory of all that blood. It's gone now, but he can still feel it, staining him, marking him as unclean.

"Alright," Dean says, resigned. "Whatever you were - or are - seeing? It's not real. Okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Bullshit." He marches over to where Sam is standing and turns the tap off, yanking Sam's hands away. Sam watches with surprise; he hadn't realised he hadn't done that yet. Come to think of it, he can't actually feel his hands anymore.

"Tell me, Sam," Dean starts, challenging. "If you're so fine, I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for why you were standing in the dark, apparently trying to freeze your own hands off."

Sam looks at the floor and shuffles uncomfortably. There's no way he's going to be able to convincingly explain this away, and both of them know it.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Dean says, which only makes Sam flush harder. Dean apparently takes pity on him, because he backs away, adopting a casual, non-threatening stance. "Look, we'll figure this out, okay? We will. But we can't do that if you're not focused. So get your ass back in bed, and we'll work on it in the morning."

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother, but goes anyway, heading past Dean back into his blood-free bed. He pulls the covers up and closes his eyes, trying to breathe normally as he feels Dean's eyes on him. He knows sleep isn't going to come tonight, but the least he can do is try, for Dean's sake if nothing else.

As Dean's breathing returns to snores, Sam's thoughts shifts back to blood and death and _yourfaultyourfaultyourfault_. He squirms, but stays put, gritting his teeth when he once again feels blood coating his hands. Somewhere to his left, Lucifer begins to laugh.

* * *

 **Wow this turned out longer than I expected. Prompt below - probably not too spoilery in hindsight, but you can't be too careful. Thanks so much for reading, and please leave a review if you have a moment!**

 **Prompt:** Sam is with Lucifer, Hallucifer, or Nick, and starts realizing how many people he's killed - people, not monsters - and how much blood is on his hands.


	24. Lollipops and Candy Canes

**From a tumblr prompt requesting dad!Sabriel. Please be aware I have never written Sabriel before, and I'm not sure I'm going to repeat the experience.**

* * *

Sam knocked quietly on Jack's door. "Hey, Jack?" he called. "Can I come in?"

There was a muffled cry of alarm from inside, followed by a hurried scuffle. Frowning, Sam opened the door and stepped in, quickly scanning the room before his eyes landed on Jack, who was sat frozen on his bed, staring at Sam with wide, mildly-panicked eyes. His hands were shoved under his pillow, from which Sam could clearly see the silver foil of a candy bar wrapper poking out. He arched an eyebrow questioningly at Jack.

"Don't be mad," Jack said quickly, moving his hands into his lap. "Uncle Gabe said it was okay."

"I'm not- I'm not mad, Jack," Sam said. He sighed. "Gabriel gave them to you?"

Jack nodded mutely.

"Of course he did," Sam muttered. "Alright. Just... Don't eat too many, okay?"

Jack nodded again, smiling cautiously at Sam. Sam smiled back, then left Jack's room, shutting the door quietly. Off-key singing floated down the corridor towards him, helpfully letting Sam know where his current problem would be, although it would have been his first guess anyway. Gabriel seemed to have practically moved into the kitchen since Dean vacated it a couple of days ago, and he was a surprisingly decent cook - not that Sam would ever admit that to him. He had a big enough ego as it was.

When Sam made it to the kitchen, Gabriel was facing away from him, doing some weird dance to the music whilst he cooked lunch. Sam smiled at the sight, for the moment forgetting why he had come here in the first place. It was nice to see him so at ease for once.

Not that Sam was going to let that continue. "Gabriel," he said, voice leaving no illusions that he was here for a casual chat. Gabriel stopped dancing and turned around, smiling infuriatingly.

"Uh-oh, full name alert," he joked. "Guess this isn't a booty call, then?"

"No, it's not," Sam replied impatiently. "Jack said you gave him some candy."

Gabriel shrugged, looking confused. "Yeah, so?"

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, let me rephrase that. Jack said you gave him _a lot_ of candy."

"And?" Gabriel still looked confused. "Kid's a growing boy, he needs his sugar."

As if to illustrate his point, Gabriel grabbed a lollipop off the counter and popped it in his mouth, sucking on it exaggeratedly. He waggled his eyebrows at Sam, causing him to sigh again.

"He _needs_ a sensible amount of sugar - which is less than he's getting - _and_ every other food group, too," Sam pointed out.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. "Since when were you in charge of his diet?" he challenged.

"Since I was the only one in this Bunker to care about it," Sam replied, folding his arms.

Gabriel considered for a moment, before shrugging and turning back to the stove. "Fair point," he admitted.

There was a brief pause, only the sound of Gabriel's cooking breaking the silence.

"So, tell me, Mr Eatwell Plate," Gabriel started. "Does this match up to your oh-so-high standards?"

Sam shook his head in exasperation, but went to peer over Gabriel's shoulder into the pan.

"Cheese and ham omelette," Gabriel proclaimed proudly. Then, he reached across the counter and shook a lettuce in Sam's face, grinning widely. "Served, of course, with organic rabbit food."

Sam stepped backwards to avoid his face becoming acquainted with any more vegetables, then nodded in approval. "I think it'll do," he said nonchalantly.

 _"You think it'll_ _do?"_ Gabriel repeated in mock-offence. "You'd better take that back, or someone's sleeping on the sofa tonight."

Sam scoffed. "Out of the two of us, I think it's you who's more deserving of the sofa this time," he countered, laughing at the disbelief on Gabriel's face.

"I don't think so," Gabriel said, advancing on Sam. He grabbed him and pulled him close, standing on his toes to whisper into Sam's ear. "I'll let you sleep in the bed," he murmured. "As long as I get to be the big spoon."

Sam laughed and pulled away, holding Gabriel at arms length. "You do realise that's physically impossible, right?" he teased. "I mean, how tall are you again?"

"Shut up," Gabriel pouted, then tried to pull Sam back in again, but he resisted.

"No more slipping Jack sweets?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gabriel huffed and rolled his eyes, but nodded begrudgingly. "Alright," he promised. "Now come here."

This time, Sam went easily, kissing Gabriel gently. It was a small victory but, for now, it would be enough.


	25. Closing Time

**For the SPN Saffic Challenge on Tumblr. My wlw pairing was Jo/Charlie. Hope you guys like it!**

 **This is probably very obvious, but Annie is Charlie**

* * *

There's a girl who comes into Annie's bar, every two nights, 7 o'clock on the dot. She always chooses the same table (near the back, next to the fire exit, facing the whole room), always orders the same drink (cheapest beer she's got) and never talks to anyone in the bar, save whoever's serving her. She's exactly the kind of person whom everyone else wouldn't look twice at, which means she's also the kind of person Annie notices first.

It's not like she's stalking the girl. It's just... like calls to like, or whatever the saying is. The look on the girl's face is one of someone who's running from something, who's always on high alert because they never know when they're going to need to grab everything and go. Annie gets that.

Even so, it takes a ridiculously long time for Annie to finally get up the courage to talk to her. She's not intimidated by much these days, hasn't been since she was the trembling, 12 year old Celeste Middleton. But there's something about this girl that sets Annie on edge, makes her wary of approaching her. Something that, somehow, both daunts her and excites her.

It's on a Tuesday night, maybe a couple weeks since the girl first showed up in her bar, when Annie just thinks _fuck it_ and decides to at least ask her name. She watches the clock all day, nerves slowly building in her stomach as the seconds drag on. Her co-workers notice her agitated state, and she notices them whispers to each other, glancing sideways and smirking at her the whole time. They've all probably figured out what she's planning; she's been talking about this girl pretty much non-stop since she got here. Annie tries to ignore them, but she's not sure she succeeds.

At 6:30, Annie's hands start shaking, and she almost spills someone's drink as she pours it.

At 6:45, she slips to the staff bathroom, quickly splashing her face and checking herself in the mirror.

By 6:55, she's booted Dale from his spot at the bar, making sure she'll be the first person the girl sees when she walks in.

At 7, Annie's eyes are firmly trained on the door, her hands working automatically as she fixes someone's drink. Her heart leaps when the door swings open, only for it to sink again when there's no flash of blonde hair to greet her. Her fingers drum in time to her heartbeat as the seconds tick by and there's still no sign of her, but she'll come, she has to-

7:01.

* * *

Later, Annie's wiping down the tables when Dale comes up to her, smiling sympathetically.

"No sign of your girl?" he asks, but the look on his face tells her he already knows the answer.

Annie shakes her head, refusing to look him in the eyes. She's had sympathy directed at her all her life; she's done with that shit now. "Nah. I thought she might just be late, but... I guess she was busy, or something."

"Aw, that's just too bad," he says, but there's something in his voice that makes Annie look at him properly, her heart leaping in fear when she sees his cruel smirk. She tries to edge around him, but he reaches out and grabs her arm, his grip impossibly strong.

"Don't even try," he warns her, almost conversationally. "You run, and it will be a whole lot messier for you."

Annie stares at him, her brain working in overdrive to figure out a way to get free. She knows how to fight - she learned it the hard way, living on the streets - but instinct tells her that this guy, _Dale_ , or whoever he really is, wouldn't even flinch at anything she could throw at him. Dale smirks at her like he can tell what she's thinking, and suddenly pulls her close to him, his gaze predatory and cruel.

"I've been thinking about doing this since you showed up in this shithole town," he murmurs, his breath tickling her neck.

Annie closes her eyes and waits, praying that whatever Dale is planning, it'll at least be quick. But he never gets the chance; the door suddenly bangs open and a gunshot echoes around the bar, a glass on one of the tables exploding into shards. Dale's grip loosens slightly in shock and Annie takes the opportunity to wrest her arm free, darting away before he can grab her again. She glances around the bar for her saviour, and her breath stops in her throat as she sees who it is.

It's _her_ , Annie's mystery girl, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a gun levelled at Dale as she steadily approaches him.

 _Well_ , Annie thinks. _Mark me down as scared and horny._

The girl's eyes flick over to Annie, then back to Dale. "Get down, Red," she says, and something about that kicks Annie's brain back into gear. She notices the way the girl's finger tightens on the trigger, how Dale looks like he's getting ready for a fight, and she dives down behind a table. At the same moment, Dale lunges forward towards the girl, and Annie goes to shout a warning. Before she can, though, a second shot rings through the bar, and Dale thumps to the floor, a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Annie stares at the body, her brain struggling to catch up with what just happened. She's still staring maybe a minute later, when a shadow falls over her, and she looks up to see the girl standing over her, holding a hand down. Annie takes it and shakily climbs to her feet, pain flaring in her arm as she does so. She looks down and sees a long, shallow cut running down her left arm. She frowns; she doesn't even remember cutting it. Unless... Oh. She'd flung herself directly into the shards from the exploded glass. Figures.

"You okay?" the girl asks, frowning at her in concern.

"Um," Annie says, intelligently. "I- I think so."

"Okay," the girl says, clearly unconvinced. "I'm just gonna deal with, you know, _this,_ " she gestures to Dale's body, "and then we'll talk. Think you can sit there for a while without passing out?"

Annie nods mutely, watching with an open mouth as the girl smirks and walks over to the body, giving it a kick for... good measure? She then grabs his arms and starts dragging him outside. It occurs to Annie that she should probably offer help - Dale wasn't a big guy, but even so. But the girl is outside before Annie can move, so she just gets a couple of whiskeys from the bar and sits down to wait.

* * *

About thirty minutes and a couple of shots later, the girl saunters back into the bar, flopping down in the seat opposite Annie. Her hair is now loose, flowing freely around her shoulders, and her casual posture is a world away from the highly-trained Wonder Woman Annie had seen earlier. She arches an eyebrow at Annie as she tries to clean up her wound, using the rudimentary First Aid kit she found in the back. Annie flushes deeply and stops what she's doing, avoiding eye contact with the girl. A silence falls between them, and Annie's mind is screaming at her to say something, but her vocal chords have apparently stopped working.

Fortunately, the girl saves her, again. "Nice place you got here," she says casually, folding her arms.

Annie laughs nervously. "It's, um, it's not actually mine. That's just what I say to impress all the girls."

She dares a quick glance up at the girl - if anything, Annie seems to have caught her interest with that comment. She flicks her eyes up and down Annie's body, a curious glint in her eye. Annie blushes and looks away.

"Well, I gotta say," the girl says, leaning forward conspiratorially. "It's definitely working."

Annie's heart skips a beat at that, her mouth opening and closing, but no words come out. She desperately tries to think of something to say - usually she's so good at this - but her brain seems to have stopped working. The girl smirks knowingly and leans back again, pointing to Annie's wound.

"I can help you with that, if you want," she offers. "I've got some supplies back at the motel I'm staying in, and I bet it can beat what you're working with now."

Annie raises her eyebrows, seeing her opportunity. "You're asking me to go home with you when I don't even know your name?" she asked, in what she hopes was a seductive tone.

The girl laughs. "Fair enough." She holds out a hand. "Casey Cronin."

Annie reaches over and shakes her hand. "Annie Tolkien."

Casey rests her arms on the table, looking at Annie knowingly. "You seriously can't expect me to believe that your real name is _Annie Tolkien._ "

Annie copies the gesture. " _Casey Cronin_?" she challenges.

'Casey' laughs. "Touché." She reaches out her hand again, looking directly at Annie. "Jo Harvelle, nice to meet you..?"

Annie shakes her hand again, unable to contain a small giggle. "Charlie Bradbury," she says. She's been figuring out this new identity for weeks now - no better time to employ it than after her co-worker gets killed and she meets an incredibly hot woman who's apparently excellent at sniffing out bullshit.

"Alright," Jo says, pushing her chair back and standing up. "Wanna come back to my place, Charlie Bradbury?"

Charlie shivers at the glint in Jo's eye, one that promises a little more than First Aid tonight. She stands and nods at Jo. "Absolutely."

They begin to make their way out of the bar, but, at the door, Jo stops and turns. "For the record," she says. "I know you're still lying about your name, but you're too hot for me to care." Then, tossing her hair over her shoulder, she leaves the bar, the door nearly slamming shut in Charlie's face.

She watches Jo's retreating back for a moment, before a smirk spreads over her face and she quickly follows her to her car.

Oh yeah. Tonight is going to be very fun indeed.


End file.
